I Don't Think You Get Much of a Vote
by labyrinthofsuffering11
Summary: <html><head></head>An exploration of Twelve and Clara's relationship. Are they friends, or are they...more? Little drabbles after each episode of Series 8.</html>
1. Chapter 1

AN: Well, the BBC has done it again. I wasn't about to ship anything after DoctorxRose, and I'm still not sure I am completely aboard the TwelvexClara ship, but as the episodes and angst progress, I can't help the feelings. So, these are going to be little drabbles after the episodes about Twelve coming into realization about his feelings for Miss Clara Oswald.

As his old body roars into this new body, the first thing he's aware of before even his kidneys is Clara and how pretty she is. So, he babbles something about new kidneys, anything, _anything _to get away from sounding like an idiot. Then, they're crashing right into a dinosaur.

Everything get a bit confusing after regeneration, and for a time, he even gets Clara confused with Strax. Strax!

She breaks his hearts more than he expects her to when she says she's not sure if she wants to travel with him anymore. She looks at him, but he can tell she can't see the man he used to be. She can't see her friend anymore, and that's what hurts.

Because he's still there for Clara, even if he's become more brusque and Scottish and whatever else, he'll still care for her. The question now is, will she?

She answers the phone on the police box after she steps outside, and he knows that it's him calling. Will she?

"Well?" he asked when he stepped outside.

"Well, what?"

"He asked you a question. Will you help me?" He can't bring himself to look at her, afraid of her rejection, anticipating it, because only a handful of companions like his brilliant pink and yellow girl had handled regeneration well.

"You shouldn't have been listening." Even without looking, he can tell she's frowning at him in disapproval.

"I wasn't," he clarified. "I didn't need to. That was me talking. You can't see me, can you? You look at me, and you can't see me. Have you any idea what that's like? I'm not on the phone. I'm standing right here, in front of you. _Please_, just see _me_." He knows he sounds like he's begging as his eyes come to snap towards her, but he can't find it in himself to care right now.

The Doctor doesn't want to be alone. He's brand new and he doesn't trust himself, doesn't know what kind of man he is yet. He can't stand the thought of going through that alone again. He's done it more times than he would have liked. He just needs the warm assurance of Clara.

She's studying him now. Then, her lips quirk into a smile, and he finally allows himself a breath. She knows.

"Thank you," she says.

"For what?" he asks.

"For phoning," she told him, and he feels like smiling, too.

…..

Later, as they realized they were in Glasgow, and Clara requested coffee, they were seated across from each other.

Clara was still staring at him, but it wasn't the same stares she had been giving him, like she was wondering where he had taken her best friend. No, this was a stare of knowing the person in front of you, but amiring a new haircut or new clothes.

HIs fingers curled around the warm coffee cup, he watched the steam lift into the air in ribbons. He still couldn't bring himself to look at Clara.

His feelings were getting into dangerously close territory, like they had for Rose. He was trying to squash them down while he had the chance, but he wasn't succeeding. It was true, what he told Amy Pond all those years ago.

The first face he saw when he regenerated was seared onto his hearts. Clara's more than Amy, after everything that happened prior to this new face.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped up to hers. "I was serious about not being a hugging person," he told her forcefully.

Hugs will only lead to uneccesary thoughts about his companion, thoughts that had been buried forever as far as he was concerned after Rose.

"And like I said, I don't think you've got much of a vote," Clara retorted, eyes glinting mischeviously.

She had missed their banter.

"I should be getting a vote," he said roughly. "Seeming as how it's my body."

"Your body, but you're my best friend," she pointed out. "And I'm the hugging type."

"I've noticed," he mumbled moodily, eyes straying downwards towards the coffee again.

"Are you alright?" she asked, moving her hand to cover his.

He tensed, but not for the reasons she thought as Clara pulled away with a look of hurt.

"Yeah, 'course I am," he brushed her off.

"Don't think I'm so bloody stupid," Clara chastised. "I know when you're upset, no matter what you look like."

"It was just-" the Doctor paused, sighing. "A trying day, Clara. I'm extremely tired."

"Maybe because you haven't taken a sip of your coffee," she teased, poking her tongue out.

His breath caught. She really shouldn't be doing _that_. "Yes, well. Alright."

The Doctor lifted the coffee to his lips slowly, smelling it carefully as if checking for acid, and sipped the liquid.

It was...quite good, if he was honest to himself. Clara had just gotten him a plain black coffee, as neither of them had been sure if he needed any cream or sugar, but he was finding the strength was just what he needed to clear his head.

"Does it need anything?" she asked, studying him.

"No," he asured her. "It's perfect, actually."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "Should have figured you'd be a black coffee man."

He scowled at her, but it was good naturedly. "What's that supposed to mean, Ms. Oswald?"

"Just that old men don't like sweet things," she pointed out.

"Oh," he drawled out his o, finding he quite liked the roll of his accent. "Don't be so sure about _that._" He took another sip of his coffee and smirked at her.

Her jaw had dropped open, but Clara quickly recovered. "Is that supposed to mean you like a cheesecake or something?"

His smirk dropped. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Dessert is great, Clara. Fancy getting us a piece of pie?"

"What kind?" she challenged.

He thought. "Whatever you think, boss." He said, focusing his gaze on her.

She blinked a few times. "Right, okay. Apple it is, and you can hand over the money for that as well."

"Clara," he protested. "This is _so _domestic. I already paid for coffee. Are you trying to kill me?"

She sighed. "Fair enough. One day at a time, Time Lord. I'll get the pies, then. Don't wander off!" she finished sincerely, with a waggle of her finger.

He mock saluted her and she spun around to walk towards the counter.

The Doctor sighed. He had to get himself under control.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you to all the followers and favorites on this story, and thanks for all the love and support! I'm glad you're all enjoying this story as much as I am :) This chapter is after Into the Dalek. Not really one of my faves this season, except for a few choice quotes. Enjoy, though!

The Doctor was reminded, as always, how fleeting human life was. It never ceased to bring him immense distress and pain, especially when it led to him thinking over his companions. He knew as soon as Journey set foot onto his TARDIS that people would die. He knew it in his bones, mostly because the universe was never that kind to him, barely gave him days where everyone lived.

He also knew it because everything he touched turned to dust. This was the very reason he didn't want to touch Clara Oswald. Look what had happened with Rose, after all. The very instant he gave in to his feelings, he had to let her go.

He also knows he can't do this without her. It's why he shows up with coffees three weeks after their first, even though they used to have a strict Wednesday schedule. All it takes is a few words here and there, and they're off.

What he isn't expecting, even though he wanted Clara Oswald to be completely honest to him to the point of brutality is exactly that.

She tells him he's not a good man. It shouldn't sting as much as it does, but oh, he always wants his companions to think the best of him. Especially her, especially Rose.

"_You are a good Da-lek."_

He had let Clara off right where he'd gotten her, Coal Hill School, but all he wanted was to be back in her company. He tried to be a good man for her, and she could tell.

That was the last thing she said to him before she stepped out of the ship in new clothes.

With his mind made up, the Doctor flipped the switches and levers to dematerialize and landed in Clara's flat. He didn't have to wait long before a tentative knock sounded on the door, and he said, "Come in."

He was greeted by the sight of Clara in her pajamas. She looked her most young and vunerable when her face was free from her makeup, her hair piled on top of her head in a knot, and reading glasses perched on her nose.

"Back so soon?" she teased, but he could see the corners of her mouth tilting into a smile and also concern.

"Can't stay away," he said with mirth.

"What is it?" she asked immediately, tucking the glasses into her vest top pocket and crossing the room to him. "What's happened to you? How long's it been?"

"It's only been a few minutes," he managed to say. "I just-" The Doctor slammed his eyes shut at the embarrassing nature of needing her.

"What?" Clara asked softly, placing a hand on his coat covered arm.

"Doesn't matter," he said gruffly.

"You're hurting," she mused.

This made him open his eyes. How could she know?

She laughed at him, like she could read his thoughts. "You know I know when that is. I've seen all of your faces, Doctor. Some hurting more than the last."

He still didn't say anything.

"You know," she continued gently. "I meant what I said. That Dalek was wrong. You wouldn't make a good Dalek."

"_What use are emo-tions if you will not save the wo-man you love!" _

"No," he said harshly, pushing her hand away from him. "The Dalek was right. I am complete rubbish at saving people. All I do is kill, all I do is-"

Clara crushed him against her in a fierce hug. "All you do is save the _universe_," she reminded him firmly. "Never asking for anything in return."

He pushed her away again, this time a little too forcefullly, making her clutch the jumpseat for support.

"You don't get it, Clara," he grit out. "Everything I touch turns to dust. Rose-"

"Rose?" she asked confusedly. "Is she one of your past companions?"

The Doctor cursed at himself. "She's- listen, Clara. One day, I'm going to get too comfortable with you, and then you're going to leave me, because the _universe _never lets me have a reprieve from the constant running and suffering."

"I cause you suffering?" she asked, eyes welling with tears.

He sighed. "Not what I meant."

"Tell me, then," Clara insisted. "Tell me why you're here."

"Because I _needed _you, okay?" he said sharply. "Is that what you've been waiting for me to admit, Clara? Now, I'll just go and leave you, since it's obvious I'm making a complete bloody fool of both of us."

The silence was a tangible thing in the console room. Clara studied him, arms crossing over her chest. "That's not fair," was what she said.

"Fair?" he asked confusedly, eyebrows knitting together.

"You can't just go around acting like I don't exist to you anymore, acting like I'm just a liability and then show up at my house with coffee and pretend we are the way we were."

"I'm not trying to do that."

Clara sighed. "Listen, I'm grading papers right now. But if you want to come in and make yourself a cup of tea and sulk or whatever, you know where to go." With those words, she shoved her glasses back on her face and strode out of his door.

When it was shut, the Doctor kicked the console as hard as he could and reveled in the pain shooting through his foot. He came here to seek comfort in his companion, and all he did was muck things up.

Ruder than ever, it seemed that's all he was destined for was mucking his relationships with his companions up. No matter what he looked like.

The Doctor resigned himself to walking out and making the tea that she suggested.

….

"Tea?" he asked later, holding out the mug like a peace offering.

Clara looked up from the essay in her hands and looked at him. "Sure," she answered, indulging him.

"About earlier," he began, "I'm sorry."

"You're what?" she asked, blinking.

"Sorry," he repeated, grimacing like the very word left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Okay," she said and shrugged.

"Can I...sit?" he asked, gesturing to the cushion on the sofa next to her.

"Of course," she said, like he was ridiculous for even asking.

He sat gingerly on the edge, and made sure to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Three weeks," she said quietly.

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked.

"You said earlier, it'd been three weeks. Have you slept at all?"

He didn't answer her.

Clara sighed. "That's what I thought. Stay here, go to sleep."

"In your house?" he sputtered out. "Why on Earth would I want to stay in your house when I've got a perfectly good TARDIS?"

"Because I know if I leave you in there, you can hide yourself away instead of sleeping."

"I'm fine," he said gruffly.

"No, you're not," she insisted. "I could tell you were exhausted the minute I stepped in the TARDIS this morning."

"Fine," he huffed. "I'll take the sofa. And, it'll only be an hour of sleep. And...you have to go somewhere with me tomorrow."

"You're impossible," she said exasperatingly. "You're worse than a child."

"I resent that," he said. "I am 1,000 years your senior."

"Don't act like it," she muttered. "Now, I'm going to bed. Sleep, Doctor. That's an order."

Seeing no way out of it, the Doctor nodded once, curtly.

"Goodnight, boss."

"Goodnight, Doctor." She hugged him for a moment, then said, "I know you don't want to be alone anyways after tonight." With that, she walked quietly out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry for such a long time in between updates, I'm a piece of shit xD Enjoy!

The Doctor had messed about majorly, especially where it concerned Clara Oswald. He let her fool around with her concept of him in her head, and it didn't come to fruition until they were up against Robin Hood.

She thought him a hero. What a change from what she told him just a short week ago. What had changed?

To be fair, the Doctor didn't know Robin Hood existed outside the realm of fantasies and fairytales. That's where he was supposed to exist, so how the hell did he come to be in medieval England?

Regardless, his jealous streak that he was trying to squash each passing day had flared its ugly head in the presence of this laughing buffoon. This couldn't really be Clara's hero, could it? Not that he wanted it to be him, either. He made a bad god. He did think, however, she could choose more wisely.

"_When did you start believing in impossible heroes?" _

"_You are her hero, I think."_

"Clara," the Doctor said suddenly, before he could stop himself as he piloted them away.

"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him.

"You know I'm not, right?" he asked.

"Not what?" Clara asked confusedly, eyebrow raised and eyes wide.

He hated that look. It was the look that made him feel like he could do anything for her. "A hero," he said simply, yanking the coordinates in place for her flat.

"Stop," she said gently, moving her hand on top of his. "I don't have to go home right now. Might even stay a night."

The Doctor's eyes widened at that statement and he gulped audibly. "A whole night?"

"That's generally what somone means when they say a night, yes."

"Don't you have-" he paused at this, waving his hands wildly at her. It was a tic he could never seem to kick, it seemed.

"Have what?" she questioned, challenging him with her hands placed on her hips now.

"Work, things, whatever it is you silly little humans do," the Doctor filled in for her.

"Not anything important, no. Besides, I know there's something bothering you," she acknowledged. "So, what is it? That you're my hero? I thought you might be flattered after what I said to you last week."

"It's just-" he started and then shook his head violently. "Doesn't matter. If you want to stay the night here, fine. I won't stop you. However, I will be in the library, reading."

"What a coincidence," she teased. "I was heading there myself."

"My room, then," the Doctor amended quickly. "Can't disturb me there."

"Why do you never say?" Clara accused, fixing the full intensity of her gaze upon him. "Why would you rather be on your own and bottle it up inside instead of _talking _to me. I thought we were friends?"

"We are," he assured her. "I just...can't, Clara."

"Fine," she snapped. "I'm going to my room, then. If you need anything, you know where I'll be."

"Clara, wait!" the Doctor called out when she spun on her heel. "I can't be anyone's hero. Please don't ask that of me, because that's not what I am. I have done that hero complex thing before, and it ended badly, and I can't do that again, Clara. I can't lose you- I can't-"

She made it to his side in two quick strides and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're afraid to lose me, you silly alien?"

He closed his eyes at the painful reminder that term of endearment brought. "Of course I am, Clara. It's not like I haven't lost companions before, some in more terrible ways than the last."

"Is this about Rose?" she asked quietly.

"How did you-?" he choked out unexpectedly, then cleared his throat.

"Do you so easily forget that I used to be splinters of myself? I saw all your regenerations, and there was this one face, the most heartbroken and lost of all, but there was a woman with you, and the way you spoke her name...I knew there was something there. If that's what you're worried about, Doctor, that's not what I want."

His left heart skipped a beat, and he felt almost disappointed. "Right, well. I wasn't saying that is what you wanted, I was just saying I can't be held that responsible again, Clara."

"Don't worry," she said softly, "I won't. That doesn't mean you should stop believing in yourself. You've still got worlds to save, and if you let yourself forget that you're supposed to be a hero, then what do you become?"

He knew exactly what he became, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Time Lord Victorious, a being that thought he could control the rules of time and space like they were nothing. That time would rewrite itself and bend itself to his will, because he was the last and the cleverest, and if it could do that, then he could have-well, it doesn't matter, because that was never him.

However, it was a terrible reminder of what he was capable of, and it's what scared him back into the now. Not that now was much better, but he needed Clara's calming presence, and he didn't need her complete confidence in him. That would only end up hurting both of them in the end, if this ended badly.

Knowing the universe, this would end badly.

Clara stretched on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, and she squeezed against his body tightly for a few seconds. As always, the Doctor's arms flopped around wildly trying to decide where to bloody position them in this weird human comfort of a hug. What was so special anyways?

"You're still my hero, no matter what you say," she told him, voice muffled by his coat. "Don't think you can get out of that one, you know how stubborn I am."

"Yes, boss," he finally said, resignedly. "Are you actually going to bed?"

"Was thinking about a cuppa actually. Did you want one?" Clara asked him, pulling back and looking him in the eye.

"Cuppa is fine," he sighed, turning away from her. "I'll stay here while you make it, if you don't mind. I'm going to work on the console a bit. You might want to brush your teeth as well."

"Why?" she asked, self consciously covering her mouth.

"Your breath," he said matter of factly, "I could smell it when you hugged me."

She huffed. "I highly doubt it smells that bad."

But when he didn't deny her statement and he just shrugged.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, running from the room.

He breathed a sigh of relief at the distance between them and tried to clear his thoughts. Her breath didn't really smell, he would just rather their physical contact be limited so he could bloody concentrate on something besides her.


End file.
